


Solidarity

by bestwithalisp



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Blood, F/M, I'm Bad At Tagging, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, big dick (duh), clothed male, face grabbing, nakedish female, trickery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 20:34:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7069033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestwithalisp/pseuds/bestwithalisp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Integrity .  You hold a position to dig up artifacts for the Guavian Death Gang.  That is, until they find out you’re working undercover for The Resistance.  Kylo Ren has already used his charm, and made you spill some integral secrets regarding the base, but now he wants more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solidarity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kassanovella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kassanovella/gifts).



> So here it is. The sequel to Integrity. Tbh, I should have actually written this into Integrity but I'm content knowing that a second part of this filth now exists. I want to thank the insatiable Kassanovella for propelling this forward, especially since it's for her. Ilysm <3

Several hours went by and you hadn’t ever felt so alone. Sure, you had been alone often enough, but the pull on your mind–no escape, no ally you could contact in good faith–it left you deserted. The only company being the wash of traitorous thoughts diving back into your brain. You leaned against the warm table for any hint of comfort and allowed your mind to wander on it’s own accord.

Had he let you escape, you could have submitted your admission to The Resistance. Given them fair warning to relocate onto a secondary system. But he wasn’t through with you, and for some distant, sick reason, you _wanted_ him to come back and use you like this. 

The memory was still fresh–splitting your obnoxious, rebellious mind apart over and over. You thought of his tongue parting your folds, the heat from the ashes shooting waves of bliss straight to your clit while he found torturous pleasure at your core. How his mouth sealed expertly at that little bud, sucking it in and worshipping it with his teeth and–fuck–how he was able to sense what you wanted? Breaking you open under his sadistic ministrations, making you cum multiple times while your body perspired, wetting the ashes of your comrades and staining them into your skin. How easily you crippled under him. 

He mercilessly brought you over the edge until those sweet words came mindlessly tumbling out. You provided this Commander–an enemy you were practiced to resist–complete access to infiltrate the largest known base. To slaughter and incinerate so many people you knew. 

There was no doubt by this point that he was overseeing preparations to invade Hosnian Prime. You could nearly see it in front of you. Endless pods and TIE fighters filling the sky, populated with twenty Stormtroopers in uniform, pushing their way down the ramp and killing anyone in their path. You could hear shrieks cut short through helpless civilians lips–blasters ripping through the flesh of their throat, stomach, chest. The only defense was a small army of Resistance fighters, trained well in combat, but inferior with weaponry and technology. There was no possible way for them to stand up against an attack from the First Order, and especially not from Kylo Ren himself. 

You twisted your neck slightly, and felt the sticky stitching of your clotting blood cells come undone, fresh liquid pooling back at the wound he left on your neck. You ran your fingers through it, inspecting it as though it changed color as a result of your actions. As though the creek trickling down your neck was invalid–nothing pure allowed to pump through your body anymore. You rolled it around between your forefinger and thumb, staining your fingerprint with treasonous red war paint.

A large slam of metal clanging onto metal broke you from your ministrations and you positioned yourself upright against the table. You pulled you knees up to your chest, folding your arms overtop, cunt hardly out of sight from the two guards making their way towards you. You looked up into the slats of a white helmet.

A static voice rippled through the room, muffling the troopers words.

“Ren has requested you on all fours, spread open”

You turned your eyes back down, willing any sense of hatred to form words

“You can tell _Ren_ my orders come from General Organa”

Short, static puffs came from the Stormtrooper–what you could only conclude as a laugh. 

“He told us you wouldn’t oblige,” the other trooper stood in front of you and grabbed your hair, forcefully pushing your face to the ground. 

Your cheek stung as it his the tile of the floor. A heavy boot pushed onto your back, forcing your chest flush with your head. 

“He also said that if you resist, each guard watching this sector gets to take turns fucking you.”

Your eyes widened at his flat tone, and you changed your stance under his foot, pulling yourself up on your elbows and knees until you were situated in an adequate position. 

You felt the pressure release on your spine.

“Better. Turn your ass towards the door. Makes for a better sight than your bloodied face”

You shuffled slightly, allowing them this one small trinket of arousal. After a few moments, they seemed to accept your figure and spun on their hell, striding out in a uniform march. 

Your elbows crushed into the bitter cold of the tile, knees buckling trying to stay like this for what felt like another hour. It wasn’t until you felt a familiar wave of dark, hollowed ambience that you _knew_ –your body knew–he just beyond the blaster door. 

You couldn’t see him, but you heard his purposeful footfalls shake the floor around you, rounding your body until a wall of black robes encompassed your face. He squatted down on his feet, gloved hand shaping around your chin and pulling your neck upward–forcing a new bead of blood to fall from your face. He was masked again, tilting his head in question–perhaps in deep thought as to what he wanted to do with you. His fingers sifted through the roots of your hair, threading through the tangles until he reached the back of your scalp and he yanked your head up– _hard_.

“There’s two ways of this, little heathen,” you could almost hear a human voice through the mask, “you tell me willingly where the co-ordinates are, and I’ll give you the pleasure I know your filthy body longs for. Or,” -he pulled his thumb away and pressed it into your temple, a sharp sting followed by a sudden, writhing headache in agony- “I’ll pull every _insignificant_ , _deceitful_ thought of your precious Resistance from you, and I promise you’ll beg for death after I’m through”

The pressure against your temple released, but he still held his finger there–just waiting. Waiting to see how you would react. He didn’t deserve the satisfaction of your answer–not yet. Not after the display he made of you only hours before. A small drop of blood landed on the floor beside your fingers, cementing the experience in a little further.

“The co-ordinates,” his fingers were cinching back around your scalp.

You pulled your lips tight, bracing for the torment and sputtered, “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His fingers dug in, thumb burrowing into the side of your skull, and squinted as several memories of your training passed through your mind. His escapade wracked your body, the hellish ache reverberating down your spine and into your stomach sending a heavy ball of bile up to your throat. He tightened the remainder of his digits around your hair, only relieving your temple slightly to see your expression. You sent him a half-garbled scream and looked into the empty holes of his mask.

“You were young, weren’t you?” the unforgiving helmet turned to the other side as his opposite arm came up and he leaned forward–your face meeting with the sweaty, itchy fabric of the robes on his chest. He stroked at your shoulders until it found resolve on the small of you back. You felt him press your spine inward–bending your stomach towards the floor until your body ached under his grip. “So young, so _unwanted_. Thrown into becoming an associate with little to no experience. Proving, once again just how _dull-witted_ The Resistance is” he pressed your face further into his body, smothering any avenue of oxygen. 

“Last chance,” you felt his voice more than heard it, “co-ordinates, _now_ ”

That unforgiving finger pressed back into your temple, ready to shred apart any and all information, but you gathered the miniscule remnants of your dignity and breathed a short “no” against his clothing. 

Without warning, you felt nail through leather digging against your skin, ripping apart every fucking memory you ever stowed away. Every moment with the General, every sit-in training session, every conference held underground. The pain was inconceivable. Similar to a jagged knife searing apart every ridge of your brain, cutting you while conscious, forcing your central nervous system to convulse with each new drag he took on your thoughts. You shrieked into the material–teeth bared–using any method to inhale through the material. You were mere seconds away from asphyxiation, mind hazing with the threat of death and as a last attempt to save itself, four sets of numbers came to the forefront, repeating themselves over and over. 

_14.36.74.52, 14.36.74.52…_

All coercion of his hand was lifted. You assumed he was satisfied and he dropped your head from his grip. Any muscles around your neck gave way and your face fell onto the little puddle of blood that pooled under you. The hand at your back disappeared, and you looked up to see he was pulling himself to stand–boots moving to circle around you. You heard his long stride pause behind you, followed by a low billow of his robes. 

“ _Foolish_ girl, was that so difficult?” your ears filled with clicks of metal unclasping, followed by short creaks of leather rubbing against itself. Warmth enveloped around your thighs, the familiar material that was consuming your face now draped itself over your legs. You made every effort to writhe away from him, to find some sort of purchase under your fingers as leverage, to somehow miraculously propel your body from his. 

But all movements were ineffectual. He had desecrated your nervous system and residual spasms rocked over you, leaving you limp for him to abuse however he saw fit. You felt his leather digits slide over your sides, causing goosebumps to form over your skin. He massaging down around the cheeks of your ass, hooking his thumb through the crack and stroking your slit with his finger,

“Still wet. Fascinating how your body has given itself over to me for a second time today,” you felt a thick digit push it’s way in, and your body gave a weak jerk forward, breath catching in your lungs. Everything in your being had thoroughly given up. 

“F-fuck _you_ ,” your words were only enough to be heard on the receiving end and in response he twisted his finger forward, curling past your pubic bone and began stroking at the nerves inside. The small, periodic twitches around your core gathered to focus wholly on your cunt. His other hand found residence in the crevice where stomach met thigh, and he added another finger inside of you, stretching you open while you let out pathetic mewls. 

“You’re so fucking _tight_. I can barely stretch you. The Resistance has you the wrong way around," he left your pussy and dragged your juices around the entrance before pushing back in, "you would have served much better as a fuck toy. In fact,” you could hear the sound of slime against leather, dragging them back up, slicking a line up the cleft of your ass, “I may have a proposition for you.”

He readjusted briefly, positioning himself adequately and you felt the warm head of his cock slip through your folds–rubbing against your clit–stroking himself back and forth and you couldn’t help but quiver in anticipation. He teased you several more times with that disgusting, lewd tip before he caught himself on the lip of your entrance, pressing himself in fully without warning. 

For however long it had been since you had fucked a man, none of them were like this, certainly none of them so painfully large. You gave a very real scream as he hit against your cervix–seating himself there–watching you reel back from this humiliating pain. When he felt you were calibrated enough around his dick, he pulled himself back out slowly, allowing every ridge to catch on the sensitive skin, still stinging from his pitiless intrusion.

He plunged back into you, ruthless and primal. Both of his hands digging into the front of each of your thighs, trying to push past every blockage inside of you. 

He was motivated to see you break, to fuck you open in such a way that no other would dare touch you the same again, to hear you scream in absolute agony each time he filled you. 

Each push from him drug your face further across the tile, blood smearing over your cheek. For all of the pain he was causing, somehow– _somehow_ –this bastard was spilling that feeling over into a newfound wave of pleasure. Your body began pushing itself into a basic state of need. It _wanted_ to be fucked apart, wanted to mold and memorize every ridge of his girth, wanted to please this–this _monster_ behind you. You felt disgusting, but maker help you, it felt so _right_. 

“ _Fuck_ this is the perfect little cunt. I think I need this to greet me at the end of every day,” one of his hands slid down to your clit, flicking around the hood and tracing small, quick circles around it, “how do you feel,”-his words were cut by one particularly painful thrust and you yelped- “about staying here? _Fuck_ –doing this over and over. Bleeding and cumming repeatedly on my cock.”

Your eyes jacked themselves open at his request. To be fair, you had just spilled two _major_ secrets, disintegrating most of your loyalty to The Resistance. 

Your mind was too far gone, however, lead only by a silk string of thoughts which pulsated into your mind that you _needed to cum_. 

He was swiping your nub faster now, jabbing himself into you rhythmically. Short, inhuman groans were pushing through his mask as he drug you closer to the edge, fucking you into liquid bliss. 

“My patience is dwindling,” he was panting erratically and you only assumed he was nearing his completion too, “refusing this offer will lead to your demise–just another fistful of ash for my room,” he growled out a satisfied whine and his other hand curved around to give your ass a painful slap, “You also won’t cum.”

He was slicing that thread you were putting so much focus into. Taking a blade and cutting into what you needed so badly. The words tumbled out of you, making you feel worthless, especially hearing the complete whorish timbre of it. The breathy agreement of you saying “yes, I would _love_ to be your little fuckslave” was embarrassing, but your body was driving the words–pleasure wracking too deep for you to catch yourself. 

He let out a deep hum in praise. "Then it’s a deal. _Seal_ it then. Cum around this cock.“

Two–three more snaps into you and your eyelashes fluttered–convulsing helplessly around his dick while he pushed you through the hardest, most electrifying orgasm of your life. 

He trailed behind you, picking up his speed, and growling unabashedly into the silence of the room. Ten rich digits were gripping painfully at the flesh of your ass as he spilled himself deep inside of you. He held you there a moment longer, allowing the remaining twitches of his cock to pulse around your core before releasing himself. You could feel long strings of his cum trickling down your thighs, dripping onto the floor in a crude display. 

” _Perfect_ ,“ he stood back up and walked back over to your face. He knelt down and pulled your red-stained cheek off the tile by your chin, forcing you to look at his mask. "Make yourself appropriate. Orientation will start in an hour.”

He pushed your head away from his grip and left you to grapple with the brainless covenant you made.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated :D


End file.
